


This Princess Business

by Danny_Flint



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Short, Sibling Love, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-26 21:57:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danny_Flint/pseuds/Danny_Flint
Summary: Arya just wants this day to be over already.





	1. This Princess Business

 

“Oh Arya, you look exquisit!”

 

She looks at the reflection in the mirror and she hardly recognizes herself. She feels like she has been hidden away under layers of ribbons, myrish lace, silk and powders from who-knows-where.

 

_I felt more like myself when I was wearing other faces._

 

The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she contains herself just in time. Even though her sister is no longer a naive girl dreaming of beautiful princes, Arya is not sure what her reaction would be if she knew half the things she had learned in the House of Black and White.

Besides, Sansa looks so excited right now, it would be cruel to mention all the hardships that led them to this moment.

 

_This hateful, hateful moment._

 

“I look like a bloody ghost in all this white”

“You look like a Stark princess. Singers will sing songs of your beauty for years.”

“If they do it in front of me, I'll throw them out the window”

“Arya! Don't say such things. You're not a wilding”

“If only I could be one right now.”

 

Sansa looks her in the eyes, her face serious. She orders the handmaidens out of the room and suddenly they're completely alone. When she talks, her voice is barely a whisper.

 

“I thought you wanted this. That you agreed.”

“I do.”

“Are you sure? Everyone would understand if you wanted to put an end to this. I'm sure we could reach some other arragement. The northen lords adore you, they would support you if...”

“Not everyone would understand. Sansa, we spent weeks negotiating how to rebuild Westeros and keep the realm together. Backing out now would undo those plans. Besides, I want to do it.”

“Truly? You really want to do it?”

“Yes I do! I just hate all the pomp and ceremony! Is completely useless and it makes me feel like a trained monkey performing for the amusement of others when a heart tree would suffice!”

 

Her sister's face relaxes and a small smile appears, making her more beautiful than ever.

 

“I'm glad to see some of the sister I knew is still there. It's impressive how in control of your emotions you're now. And a bit unnerving, if I'm honest. You used to be so open with everyone.”

“Courtesy is a lady's armor, right?”

“True. But we both know courtesy has never come easily to you.”

“I could always get out of this monstruous dress and go in my riding leathers. Would you prefer that?”

“Don't you dare! Those stinking rags are awful! If I ever see you wearing them again and I'll steal them and burn them.”

“I can get new ones, easily.”

“Of course you can. All you have to do is ask Jon and he would give you so many you could wear them everyday for the rest of your life.”

 

She sounds slightly irritated, just like when they were children and Sansa expected Arya to get in trouble for doing something unladylike, like running away from Septa Mordane to ride through the Wolfswood or get mud in her dress while playing with Bran, only to see Father with a smile in his face asking her about her latest adventure.

 

_Some things never change, I suppose._

 

The thought comforts her. Barely anything from her old life remained, it was nice to get some of it back, even if it was an annoying part.

 

Sansa sighs as she puts the finishing touches in her hair. Now that the novelty of seeing her sister in a proper dress is gone, she's thinking about the wedding, Arya can see it in her eyes. She's the only one who went back to the Vale to escape the war against the Others, she's the only one who wasn't there to see how Arya and Jon's relationship changed slowly but surely with every battle, every joint decision, every confession about the things they had done to survive during their years apart that now haunted them.

Part of her wishes she could explain everything to Sansa, but her sister had been a first-hand witness of her bond with Jon when they were children. In her heart, Jon and Arya still were those unseparable siblings, no matter how much her mind understood that they were actually cousins.

 

“I think it's time.”

 

Breathing deeply, Arya takes a few seconds to prepare herself for the day ahead. She wishes one last time she could have gotten married in Winterfell's Godswood, surrounded by her family in a quick, discreet ceremony, instead of being dragged to the New Sept so all of Westeros can see the power of the Targaryen monarchy. She understands shallow displays of wealth and power are useful, but she still hates them with all her heart.

 

_Let's get this stupid thing out of the way._

 

Bran is waiting in the carriage that will take them to the sept. People wanted to see their new princess and, to be honest, Arya didn't mind. It was parading in front of a bunch of stuffy lords and ladies what made her skin crawl.

 

It takes a while to reach the sept. Even though the city was still being rebuilt thousands of people were already living there, and Arya had earned their love by helping them everytime she could. Now they were crowding the streets to see their new princess and show their admiration. Arya was moved by their display, although she also wants to reach the bloody sept as soon as possible just so she can get through the day faster.

Finally they reach the New Sept. It is a big but simple building, with none of the ostentatious decorations Baelor's Sept had, and as she looks towards it, Arya is thankful she doesn't have to get married in the same place where her father lost his life.

 

Sansa gets down so she can join the guests, and Bran watches her go while they wait for a servant to bring his wheel chair.

 

“She looks more and more like Mother every single day, don't you think?”

 

Arya doesn't answer inmediatly. She doesn't like to think about Mother. Everytime she tries her heart becomes heavy and the guilt and sadness eat her alive. The kind face and shiny blue eyes she knew as a child turn into a grey face with open wounds and eyes full of rage.

But what haunts her dreams is the broken scream as the knife plunged into her dead heart.

 

“I guess so.”

“You need to forgive yourself.”

“Says you.”

“Exactly. And I am the Three Eyed Raven, so you know I'm always right.”

 

She rolls her eyes and a small smile touches her lips as she hugs her brother.

 

“Thank you for that.”

“Whatever you need, my princess.”

“Bran, don't.”

“Don't what, my princess?”

“You know perfectly what.”

“I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, my princess.”

“Argh! It's bad enough that I'll have to deal with people calling me by some stupid title or another for the rest of my life, the last thing I need is my little brother doing it too!”

 

Bran laughs and Arya acts like the princess she is about to become by sticking out her tongue at her brother until the chair arrives.Once they reach the top of the ramp they stop and Bran grabs Arya's hand.

 

“You're going to be fine sister.”

“Is that the Three Eyed Raven talking? Have you seen my future in the trees?”

“I don't need to look at the future to know you'll be fine. You're one of the strongest people I've ever known. Few people could have survived what you survived. Remember that everytime you doubt yourself.”

“I love you Bran.”

“And I you, Arya.”

 

Suddenly the doors of the sept open and Arya looks straight ahead, holding Bran's hand with such strenght her knucles turn white. Bran squeezes her hand to reassure her. And to get some revenge for the painful grip.

They go through the sea of pompous lords and ladies that look at Arya with avid eyes, some of them admiring her northen beauty, others looking for any flaw they can exaggerate when they go back home.

Arya doesn't see any of them. She doesn't see Wyllas Tyrell's kind eyes, or Myranda Royce's sharp gaze. She doesn't realize Sansa and Tyrion are smiling at her, that Meera is nodding, that Daenerys is proud of her, or that Sam keeps blinking because he can't believe his eyes.

All Arya see is the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle. His grey eyes are two beacons calling her home. He's the only reason she is wearing the stupid dress and is not running away from the sept at this very moment.

Finally she reaches his side and grabs his arm. He looks at her with loving eyes as he leans in to kiss her hair and whisper.

 

“Are you sure about this?”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying, Rhaegal is not far away. We could always fly away to Winterfell and forget all this.”

“If you don't shut up and let this stupid day end as soon as possible I'll punch your stupid face, I swear it.”

Jon stiffles a laugh and looks at the septon to start the ceremony.

 

The ritual is long and boring. If it hadn't been for all those evenings at the House of Black and White staying still with a jug of water in her hands she probably would have been uncapable of dealing with the tedium.

She looks at Jon at every chance she gets. She knows he hates this as much as she does, if not more. He had never been exposed to the Faith of the Seven, and having to learn the hymns for the wedding was an absolute torture for him. But his face remains a placid mask except for the twinkle in his eyes everytime their eyes meet and a small smile that makes her heart beat faster.

 

The septon keeps talking and talking about the sanctity of marriage and the Maiden and stuff no one cares about. And just when she thinks she can't take it anymore, she hears the blessed words.

 

“Let it be known that Arya of Houses Tully and Stark, and Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to turn them asunder.”

 

Jon is smiling at her, all the boredom forgotten with just a few words.

 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

 

Arya is giddy. Jon leans in slowly, cupping her face in his hands, and gives her a tender kiss full of promise that melts her insides.

 

Once they break their kiss, Jon looks at her with wonder.

 

“I swear, once this madness is done we will take Rhaegal and fly to Winterfell so we can get married in front of a heart tree, just you, me, Bran and Meera.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

“I still can't believe this is real.”

“I did not submit myself to hours of torture and a stupid dress for you not to believe I'm your wife, you stupid.”

“Arya Stark, I have never loved anyone like I love you, and never will.”

“You better don't, if you know what's good for you.”

 

Jon laughs one more time, and clashes his lips againsts hers.

 

_Maybe this princess business won't be so terrible after all..._


	2. How it was meant to be

Arya looks at the grey walls of Winterfell and sighs.

 

“Is there a problem?”

 

She had heard Jon's arrival since he came out to the yard with Ghost right behind him.

 

“No. Not really.”

“Are you sure? You look sad.”

“How is it you always know what I'm feeling?”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

“I spent years learning to rule my face and you still can see right through me.”

“Is not easy, but I know you pretty well.”

 

That was an understatement. Jon knew every part of her soul like the palm of his hand. Every scar, every ghost, every regret she had shared with him. It was hard at first, the fear of being rejected controlled her every action and made it almost impossible to confess many of the things she had done since that fateful day Father was murdered.

But Jon had been adamant when he told her there was nothing she could do to make him reject her; and little by little she had confessed everything to him and viceversa. By the end, their bond was stronger than it had ever been, a rope that kept them from drowning in desperation once the War for the Dawn had started and their world was reduced to an endless night fighting the endless army of the dead.

 

“Are you remembering the war?”

“Yes, but that's not the problem.”

 

The war was done and the White Walkers could no longer trouble Arya, she knew they would never bother her again.

 

The problem was Winterfell. Bran had done a wonderful job rebuilding it, he had known the castle better than anyone else and it showed. But Arya could see some changes that made it impossible for her to pretend this was the Winterfell from her childhood.

 

The tiny sept where her Mother prayed every morning was gone without a trace, the kitchens where she had stolen apple tarts with Rickon were now closer to the Great Hall, the stables where she had pestered Robb until he had taught her how to ride looked new and shiny and she absolutely hated them.

 

But the change she hated the most was right underneath her feet.

 

Jon sits right next to her and she inmediatly puts her head on his shoulder.

 

“Then what is it?”

“It's Winterfell. I know it sounds cruel after Bran's efforts but...”

“...is not the same. I know.”

 

Of course Jon knew. She wants to kick herself for not thinking about Jon and how he must feel. Winterfell was his childhood home too.

 

“Anything I can do to help?”

“I don't think so. Winterfell is not the home we remembered and we can't change that. When I first came back I was so absorbed by the White Walkers and the war that I didn't have time to stop and think how different it felt.”

“And how do you feel now?”

“I'm not sure. I still feel more at ease here than anywhere else, but something is missing and I'm not sure it will ever come back”

“Does that mean you have changed your mind? Because if that's the case I'll support you...”

“No! I still want to do it. The Godswood is the only place that feels the same. I can still see Father cleaning Ice next to the pool... Unless you have changed your mind.”

“Never. I accepted the sept ceremony only because that meant we would be free to do things our way once we came here.”

“I'm glad you feel that way.”

 

Arya spends the afternoon with Nymeria and Bran collecting flowers until the sun starts getting low. His brother goes to get everything ready so she can have more time for herself, and Arya thanks the gods for letting her brother live and keep his kind nature.

 

The descense is long but she knows the way and reaches her destination in no time. She looks at her flowers one last time as she divides them between the members of her family.

 

“ _None of you should be here. Not yet.”_

 

The four statues just look at her with empty eyes, and she wonders what they would say if they could see her now. She thinks Father would be proud of the woman she had become while blaming himself for not being there to protect her; Rickon would probably follow her everywhere and beg her with big eyes to teach him water dancing; Robb would be furious she had to fight to survive for so long, and amazed she was able to do it anyway.

 

And Mother... She honestly doesn't know. Sometimes she thinks she would respect her abilities, maybe even admire them and how she uses them to protect her pack, but then she remembers her cold gaze as she looked at Jon and knows she would feel betrayed and horrified by her feelings for him. Sometimes all she can remember is Lady Stoneheart holding Robb's crown with adoration, and the pain in her eyes when the daughter she had searched desperatly during years plunged a knife where the heart is.

 

Suddenly Meera is behind her to help her prepare for tonight. With a sad smile Arya bids goodbye to her family and promises to visit again before she leaves.

 

Meera distracts her with stories from her childhood while she helps her get ready, and soon Arya's mind is in a better place. She had liked Meera since the moment they met, and the more she gets to know her, the more she approves of her sister-by-law. At one point she joins in the converstation and they exchange their better childhood pranks, and Arya is happy to know there is another unladylike lady running around the North to keep things interesting.

 

“I think we're done. This is how you were meant to look.”

 

Arya looks at her reflection and is glad to see herself staring back at her.

 

_Glad to see a familiar face this time._

 

“I agree with you. At least this time I recognize the person I see in the mirror.”

“I just don't understand why you two bothered with that display in the city when you were doing this anyway.”

“Daenerys wanted to show the world she won't be the last member of House Targaryen, and that her family reigns once more in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I still think that wedding was too much. Why would anyone want to see a dancing bear? Bears are not supposed to do that. It was disturbing.”

“I don't know. I'm just glad we can do this.”

“Bran is really happy you are marrying in front of a heart tree.”

“We're too. It's the only reason we didn't throw ourselves at the mercy of the dancing bear during the feast.”

 

Meera is still laughing when Bran comes. She kisses his cheek and leaves for the Godswood with Nymeria running after her.

 

“What's so funny?”

“Dancing bears.”

“What?”

“Nothing, forget about it.”

“You know I can always find out.”

“Don't be stupid.”

“I see your princess status has done nothing to refine your behaviour.”

“So?”

“Nothing. I like it.”

 

They tease each other until they reach the entrance to the Godswood and Arya sees the lanterns that will take her to Jon one more time.

 

The lights guide their way towards the heart tree. A soft snow covers everything, and makes Arya feel like she's the first person to ever come into the sacred woods.

 

They reach the clearing and there is Jon with Meera, Nymeria, Ghost and the white tree that will see them wed.

 

_This is how it was meant to be._

 

Once they are close, Jon starts speaking.

 

“Who comes? Who comes before the gods?”

“Arya of House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

“Me.Jon of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, heir to the Seven Kingdoms, I claim her. Who gives her?”

“Brandon of House Stark, her brother. Lady Arya, will you take this man?”

 

Arya looks at Jon and it requires all her self-control not to run to his arms and kiss him until the day comes.

 

“Ay, I take this man.”

 

With that Bran lets go of her hand and she goes to Jon so they can kneel and pray to the old gods.

She prays for peace, for prosperity, for an end to all the years of suffering and destruction. She prays for the family she lost and the one she still has, and she prays for Jon to be always safe and by her side.

 

Nymeria howls but it sounds far away, faint, and suddenly she's hearing Father's voice.

 

_I knew you could be strong. You have the wolfblood in you._

 

She feels how Jon takes her cloak so he can cover her in his, and once he's done she gets up and kisses him with all the strenght she can muster.

 

Brand and Meera go to sleep after a simple dinner in the Great Hall, but Arya doesn't feel tired at all. She keeps thinking about Father's voice, and the pride she though she heard for those brief seconds.

 

“So, Lady Stark, what do you require of your new husband?”

 

Arya rolls her eyes.

 

“You're not my new husband. We were already married, you stupid.”

“But you must admit it feels different. I feel closer to you now than I did in the sept.”

“Me too. Maybe the old gods approve of our union.”

“Maybe. Hard to know what these gods of ours think.”

“We could always ask Bran.”

“Better not. There are things I'd rather not know.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like the thing going through your head right now to make your eyes shine like that. It screams danger.”

 

Arya leans in to whisper in his ear

 

“Oh, I think you are mistaken. I think you would like what's going through my mind right now.”

“Is that so?”

“Just so.”

“Care to tell me then?”

“You'll have to catch me first.”

 

Jon is quick, but Arya has always been quicker and they run all the way to the Godswood before he catches her and they fall to the ground panting and smiling at each other.

 

“Caught you.Now you have to tell me what you were thinking.”

“I think you already know.”

“I think I do too.”

 

 

**The End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just kept thinking about the Godswood ceremony I mentioned in the previous chapter and how there is no way these two wouldn't get married in front of a heart tree, so I wrote the northen ceremony.


End file.
